


Gladiolus

by EmberGlows



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M, I APOLOGIZE, again. so sorry., also technically the romantic stuff is dub con so tread lightly friends, content warnings for violence & manipulation & death & mentioned sexual content, if its any consolation i was sad whilst writing it?!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberGlows/pseuds/EmberGlows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A darker au, in which Amon and Korra have had complicated feelings for each other for awhile. They meet alone at the end of Book 1, and sad things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gladiolus

_**Gladiolus – You pierce my heart.** _

~~***~~

Korra’s keening sob punctured the dusty air of the storage room.

Once, what seemed like decades ago, she had come in here to move boxes with Bolin for Toza.  _What a boring room!_  She had commented upon first seeing its dust-shrouded rows of boxes and junk, laughing as Bolin had hurriedly agreed and stepped on Pabu’s tail in his eagerness.

That was before she had worried about the Equalists. That was before she had met Amon. That was before he had sought her out, time after time, whenever she least expected it. Whenever she had been alone.

At first, it had been an intimidation strategy – she had read about those in Jinora’s books. She had lashed out those first few visits with her bending, and been chi blocked. He had talked to her after paralysing her, not harmed her like she feared. But, after his third visit, Korra hadn’t know what to make of his honeyed words. They had sounded appealing, the promises he spoke of. The tales he spun like silk, each syllable as slippery – yet as perfect – as water. Of how powerful and wonderful she was, how the pair could work together, how she needn’t lose her bending at all if she complied.

Maybe that was why she had never spoken of their meetings to anyone else. Maybe because she had secretly wanted him to come back. She had guiltily craved his flattery; had wanted those tales to somehow become true.

He had started touching her on his sixth visit, nothing uncouth of course; just chaste brushes of fingertips against her cheek or knuckles as he praised her strength and beauty. Each visit had brought more and more intimacy, until he covered her eyes during his twelfth. The lips that had brushed against Korra’s in the next instant were warm, but not as warm as she had felt. He had vanished an instant later, and she had been left puckering the night air that was blowing through her open window.

The next visit, he had apologized. She had squeezed her eyes shut as he did so, and shut him up by blindly reaching over, tugging off his mask, and smashing her mouth clumsily against his. Moments later, he had blindfolded her and the only sounds had been the whispering of their voices combined with the whispering of her outer clothing slipping to the ground.

_What have you done to me? Why do I feel like this?_  Korra had asked him, almost tremulously.  _Do you feel the same?_

He hadn’t answered for many moments, until:  _Does this mean you’re joining me, Avatar?_

_I can’t_ , she had whispered desperately, frustrated tears filling her eyes and leaking onto the cloth of her blindfold.  _Don’t ask that of me. Please._

Another long pause, this one devoid of touch as he stepped away.  _I… Understand._ Korra’s heart had swelled in gratitude, until the next words made it seize up in misery.  _I understand that we both have our own obligations. Goodbye, Avatar._

He had left her there, in only her bindings and blindfold, escaping again out the window.

He had left her there, and she had felt the words pierce her heart and shatter in upon impact.

He had left her there, and never returned. She hadn’t seen him again, just the two of them alone.

Until now.

***

The hand that harshly dug into her forehead suddenly moved to stroke her hair, and trace lightly down her face. She collapsed onto the floor, needing to escape the inexplicable tenderness in that touch, her breathing becoming more rapid.  _My bending… My… My bending… It’s? It’s…_

Low laughter echoed around the room now, drowning out her quiet whimpers. Korra had expected Amon to gloat, to jeer. But instead, he just sounded tired. His laughs were hollow, half-hearted, exhausted attempts that soon petered off as quickly as they had begun.

“We could’ve avoided this, Avatar.” Korra flinched at his smooth voice. “You could’ve joined me. You would have been safe if you joined me like I asked,” he continued, and inexplicably Korra felt guilty at what he told her.

Her breathing was quickly turning into hyperventilation as panic set in; she squeezed her eyes shut further and curled up on the floor. She felt as though an unseen limb had been hacked off from her body. She was in so much pain, so much grief.

“You need to calm down,” Amon’s voice continued, this time more urgently. Korra felt a comforting hand stroking her shoulder and back, and tried weakly shrug it off. “Please, get up. I can take you away from here, Avatar. No one will dare to defy me. We can be together, I promise.”

“I hate you.” Korra’s voice was so quiet it was a wonder the pair could hear it. She fought to even her breathing, and finally looked up from her place on the ground.

She was met with that mask; the otherwise insignificant piece of painted wood that had haunted both her nightmares and secret fantasies. The eyes underneath it remained impassive. “No you don’t,” the smooth voice continued, and Korra shuddered at its complete surety. “You feel for me, don’t you?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head over and over, attempting to bury it in the darkness of her arms again, but his hand that had been on her shoulder suddenly grabbed her chin and held her there. “You cannot lie to me, Avatar.” It was then that her tears started spilling over, running like rivers down her cheeks. His other hand wiped one away gently. “I know because… I feel the same.”

There were countless ways Korra expected herself to react to that sad confession. She could have screamed and tried to escape, she could have punched him, she could have collapsed again. But what she didn’t expect herself to do was cover his hands with her own and brokenly whisper: “Prove it.”

The eyes under the mask seemed to spark with happiness, as he brushed more tears from her face and bent them into a small clear orb above their heads. He made it turn to ice, and then flew the shards into every direction. One sliver embedded itself in the door leading to the hallway, and Korra suddenly noticed another figure loom out of the shadows there. It was the Lieutenant.

Her eyes widened in shock, but Amon merely took that as surprise from his waterbending display. “I can do more than bloodbend, Avatar.” His words were tripping over themselves in his hasty excitement, something they had never done before. The Lieutenant began to silently approach Amon from his behind, blind fury evident in his face. “I can appreciate waterbending for its beauty. I’ll take you away from here, somewhere no one can find us, and I’ll find a way to return your powers to you. We can waterbend together, free from our duties, Avatar.”

Korra didn’t know what to do.  _Warn Amon? Run away with him? Or let him face the Lieutenant?_  She swallowed thickly. “Korra. My name is Korra.” Horrified at her response, she watched the other man step closer still.

“Forgive me,” the man not named Amon whispered. “Mine’s Noatak.”

The two parts of Korra seemed to be at war with themselves. One, the girl she used to be, was shouting at her to distract the villain and let him receive justice. The second, the girl she could be with Noatak, was screaming for her to warn him and run away. “I know,” she breathed, and closed her eyes.

He understood, and she heard the sound of his mask hitting the floor before his lips were on hers. She tasted triumph and happiness on him, and felt bile rise up in her throat.  _The Lieutenant is going to electrocute him now, any second_ , the one part of her bawled desperately.  _Save him!_

_No._ The stronger part of her said firmly.  _He’s evil. They'll imprison him. _He needs to be punished.__

A lot of things happened very quickly in the next moment. The Lieutenant’s cry of rage rang out inches from behind Amon’s – Noatak’s – back. Korra’s eyes whipped open just in time to see Noatak having a knife shoved into him. Her scream seemed to snap Noatak out of the moment more than the wound; he took his lips off hers and turned in shock to his Lieutenant, who spat in his scarred face. “No, no, no, n-no,” Korra blubbered, clutching Noatak as he fell backwards. Blood stained her hands where she held him. “You were only supposed to electrocute him!” she screamed at the Lieutenant, so loudly that the whole of Republic City must have heard her.

“He deserved what he got,” the Lieutenant spluttered out, surprised at her reaction. “A bender, killed in the most non-bending way possible.”

“Korra,” the third voice startled her, and she stared at the unmasked man in her arms, her vision distorted by fresh tears. His breathing was wheezy, but he attempted a weak smile. “It’s all right. Ju-Just give me a tribal b-burial.”

She heard the Lieutenant scoff, and start taunting him. Blindly, she screamed until her throat was raw and threw up a hand to push him backwards. A whoosh of air came hurtling out of her outstretched hand and harshly threw the Lieutenant across the room into a wall.

Immediately, she refused to think about what she had just done and returned her gaze to Noatak, who smiled. “S-see? You don’t need me to restore your bending. You’ll do f-fine on your own.”

A moment later, his chest stopped moving. When her waterbending didn't return to heal him, all she could do was clutch at his clothing. She sobbed in pain, scrubbing at the makeup on his face until it was clean and handsome again. Her friends found her like that a half hour later, cradling Republic City's terrorist in her lap, when her wails had turned into a traditional Southern Water Tribe widow’s mourning song.


End file.
